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Joel Johnson Feb 2016
sometimes it's for me to say it's time
and when I say time
don't say again this time

I'll be wondering
wandering aimlessly
and toward the then
after which it was meant to be
and all was set as free

we war and fight none
that we shall all too soon see
that it was never again
what was
and has been
and thus said to be

And will I wonder
upon mountains
of old
as it ages
and days go by
as it all goes old
then back to the start
will we stand fighting
with these warring hearts
wuthering to heights
unseen
and when not heard,
it shall be said again

I flow it freely
say it's me
say again
what I want to hear
so I can begin to seek
the bitterness of the sweet
serenity calling me in the end
at the end
for when it's ended
that end is one that's to
begin again

And when it's said
there we will sing
and when we seen
convergence upon it
is what we mean
it to be
and to see it sweetly singing
of me
and what was meant to be
there are your hearts
hearted
crying
loftily
planning to be the departed
beloved
gathered
withered
here today

seek not solemn silence
and the solitudes such winds
may bare

Barren as a chosen lamb
burnt on the fire
it's said again
meant to be free
until the bitter end
bitterness
the tongue's taste
******* said
clad until quickening
quickness at the very end

Say it again
say it's to all begin and when you said
then no man shall falter
wonder where though they would not
bother
try to seek and to question
and to sometimes cry
why
why when it's not
and what not
when it's clearly said to be
what was meant
what's to be seen
what's heard
always
and has been before
though never again
and to be said again
only the stains would cry
rat
for it's a rat's house falling with such splendor

cry not for me
I wondered when
And I wandered to parts unknown
and at the end I began it
since
I've said again
what's been said

How many
And how many again
What will it be
when it all bothers to settle in the winds

They sing so sweetly
A song I've never wanted to hear
so majestic
it's roaring chorus
a thousand waves crashing
surfs up
and all aboarding
wondering
ware fearer's seeking pittance
calling to the wonder of what was meant to be
stated

Cry it out
it's not what I want to be
I wondered and I have stillness
to still within it and within
which to believe

No fear will elude it
It will question it's day
for in the end
even through rambling
they will know it's way.

— The End —